


Turning Point

by smileysgoboing



Series: Brigan POV [1]
Category: Fire - Kristin Cashore, Seven Kingdoms Trilogy - Kristin Cashore
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2263041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileysgoboing/pseuds/smileysgoboing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A smashed fiddle, a suspicious prince and the tears of a monster. Oneshot. Brigan POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Point

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a few years ago, and I like to think my writing has improved.

Brigan felt the faint pangs of hunger when the alluring scent of his mother's casserole floated to him. Roen was still eating with the monster. Again, the wrongness nagged at him – it confused Brigan to see his mother was so…sure and comfortable in the presence of Cansrel's daughter.

"…anymore. How is your casserole?" Roen asked. Brigan approached the room silently, aware of his reluctance to see the lady monster. He didn't like her, didn't trust the girl – he was wary of her effect on his men. Now that he knew about Cansrel…

He entered the room and noted the way she froze, stopped eating the delicious casserole. He was almost certain that she was afraid of him and he couldn't help but feel a tiny hint of guilt at their first meeting. He decided that it was strange the way she was so comfortable with his mother and not him.

"Brigandell." Roen rose to welcome her son. "You've come to steal my guest from me."

Brigan smiled at his mother. "In exchange for forty soldiers," he said. "Twelve injured, so I've left the healer."

"We can mange without the healer, if you need him, Brigan," Roen offered calmly. She kept her head clear, unworried by the war or the fact that her son was fighting in the war. She understood.

"His family's in the Little Greys and I promised him a stay here when I could," he explained. Throughout their small conversation, the girl had remained silent and wary. "We'll manage with our numbers until Fort Middle."

Roen understood his decision. "Well then," she said, her concerned maternal side coming out. "Are you sleeping?"

"Yes," he answered.

She sent him a little glare. "Come now. A mother can tell when her son lies," she clarified. "Are you eating?"

Brigan hid a small smile, understanding and putting up with her concern. After all, he, too, worried about Hanna. "No," he said seriously. "I've not eaten in two months. It's a hunger strike to protest the spring flooding in the south."

The girl watched curiously with her captivating green eyes. Roen played along. "Gracious. Have an apple, dear."

* * *

 

Brigan munched on his apple, his appetite sated. As they had left, his mother had given him a warning glare and he had understood. Brigan knew that he was being a little too harsh on the girl. He couldn't help himself – a monster was terrifyingly beautiful and this girl was more beautiful than her father, and that would have consequences.

He watched her as she tucked her shockingly scarlet hair underneath a scarf – safety reasons, he assumed – from the corner of his eye. They entered the sunlight where First Branch waited, Brigan escorting the girl to her guard and horse. As he studied her, she seemed to concentrate on something unseen, using her mental powers that could easily destroy the entire land.

He was grateful that she was not like her father.

"Lord prince," a voice said sharply. "How far do we mean to travel today?" Brigan answered with equal sharpness, impatient to ride Big.

As the captain strode away purposely, a new voice spoke. "I think my guards are holding a man." Brigan almost flinched at the soft, musical tones but he forced himself to concentrate on the monst –girl beside him.

His military instincts took over. "Why? What man?"

No hesitation. "I don't know anything except that he hates me," she said softly, "and that he hasn't hurt my horse."

Brigan nodded, mind burning with confusion. She seemed too sweet, too innocent to be subjected to a man's hate, yet here she was, surrounded by men who hated or would hate her by the end of their journey. She could be selfish with her monster powers, yet she only cared about her horse.

"I hadn't thought of that," he said finally. "I'll have to do something to stop people targeting your horse." This was sincere – her horse was gorgeous and loyal, and it would be a waste for it to be targeted because of its mistress.

At this, their pace increased to a slight jog – Brigan could hear some distant cursing. He cursed silently himself but didn't know what to expect. Her guards dead? The intruder to attack once they arrived?

As the horrible scene came into view, Brigan spotted Edler and another guard restraining a soldier whose curses he'd heard before. He spat and shouted and threatened the girl when she came into view; she shied away from him. A third guard whose name he couldn't remember at the moment cuffed the intruder over and over again.

Musa was heading over to them – to the girl, glancing at a pile of splinters and wood on the ground. On closer inspection, it was the remains of a musical instrument – a fiddle, perhaps. Confusion raced through his body once again.

A small, broken hearted sob in front of him and he remembered the soldiers talking about the lady monster and her music. It seemed insignificant to Brigan but as he looked up, a kind of understanding came over him as he watched the girl stumble over to her horse, sobbing loudly the whole time. It was a possibility that because the girl did not know many people, her possessions would be just as important as someone important to her, or perhaps it was a gift of some sort.

Reality came rushing back and he swore, grabbing one of the many handkerchiefs that Neel had and handing it to Musa who, he knew, would pass it to Fire.

The soldier was still shouting, yelling and spitting terrible threats about what he would do to the still sobbing girl and Brigan choked back a stream of profanities. Instead, he marched over to the soldier, raising his hand back to strike him.

_Don't hit him again. Brigan, please_. This mental communication shocked him enough for him to stop and he forced himself to look, not at Fire, but at the soldier. Terror screamed distantly in his mind – could she take control of him? Could she manipulate him?

Logic spoke. He had trained himself to block his mind – his mind was always blocked, even at their first encounter. He had hurt her, caused her to bleed and she hadn't taken control. Perhaps his mental control was stronger than he thought.

Brigan dearly wanted to silence the soldier with violence, to prevent him from frightening the young girl but his discipline took control. He had never hit one his soldiers before and had never had to until now, when this monster girl drove his men wild. But the girl seemed to be a pacifist, and so he would do as she said.

"Gag him," was all he said.

And with that, Brigan strode away, leaving behind a distressed monster girl, who – in his mind – wasn't as dangerous as she was before.


End file.
